


Not all that glimmers is gold

by Elenielwen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Broken and torn Kylo Ren.. as we all know he is, F/M, Female Knight of Ren, Fluff in the future, Force Bonds, Force sensitive reader.. somewhat, Mentionings of blood, Might contain graphic descriptions of gore, Minor Character Death, Space Battles, Trying my hands on a science fiction fic, Violence, Will add tags as I go, future smut? Might try, reader POV, slow burn!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenielwen/pseuds/Elenielwen
Summary: How badly you wish this day would never come.Your coordinated steps, honed by a lifetime of military training, almost falter in their rhythm as you pass a mechanic to your right, a woman looking too young to even be at this base. Sick to your stomach, knowing what will transpire, you ball your perspiring hands into a fist. The breaths leaving your shivering lips are ragged, and you keep fighting the urge to stop and shout out a warning at the top of your lungs.  To try and save as many as you can.You have tried altering events before.. but they were always proven futile.





	1. Mission: Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm not sure I'm fit to write a science fiction fic, but let's try, shall we? If enough people like it, I'll write more, but if not, at least I tried and it was fun :D 
> 
> If anyone wants to BETA this - let me know! I'm Elenielwen on Tumblr as well <3

You knew what was going to happen today, what was to come, had known for quite some time.

 

You had been forced to witness the death of your comrades- people you knew and cared about, along with the annihalation of this place. You had tasted its ashes, coarse against your tongue, inhaled the smoke billowing from the embers, felt the heat of the flames burning against your skin. The images had been seared into your retinas, a video on repeat during the past couple of months.

 

Walking down the ramp, that is all you can see, the sheer  **destruction** that is about to take place. Exhaling, you gnaw on your lower lip, and shake your head to rid yourself of the images threatening to consume your focus. The hissing of the hatch to the transport shuttle you're currently exiting, signals the beginning of the end.

 

_How badly you wish this day would never come._

 

Your coordinated steps, honed by a lifetime of military training, almost falter in their rhythm as you pass a mechanic to your right, a woman looking too young to even be at this base. Sick to your stomach, knowing what is to come, you ball your perspiring hands into a fist. The breaths leaving your shivering lips are ragged, and you keep fighting the urge to stop and shout out a warning at the top of your lungs. To try and save as many as you can.

 

You have tried altering events before.. but those efforts were always proven futile.

 

You had in fact, for quite a long time, tried to alter the events that you dreamed of, but the outcome never turned out the way you hoped. It is with some bitterness that you admit learning a long time ago that some things... just can not be changed. 

 

Feeding your memory with images of the most recent dream, an ever recurring _nightmare_ , you unclench your hands and finger the holster of your dual pistols, trying your best to not give away any of the anxiety that keeps worming its way through your skull.

 

 _Everything is about to change_ , a small, defeated voice sighs in your mind. You exhale at that, perspiration starting to form even at the top your forehead beneath your stormtrooper helmet.

 

As the true countdown begins, your stomach ties itself into a knot, muscles clenching, stringy bile threatening to rise with each step you take.

 

_Any second now._

 

You almost reach out for your only sibling for support, but she is two steps ahead, and you do not dare such an open breach of protocol.

 

With effort, you steel yourself, focusing on keeping your rebelling stomach in check. Vomiting inside a helmet could be positively fatal, and you're not keen of suffering a premature death.

 

**_3._ **

 

An officer walks by just then, another youthful face with their hair kept in a neat standard First Order bun, another person whose life do not deserve to be cut short at such a young age.

 

**_2._ **

 

You swallow past a thick lump that has formed at the back of your throat, hands starting to shake as you close your eyes.

 

_**1**..._

 

_**CHAOS.** _

 

It is the only word that can properly describe what happens next. Despite having witnessed it all already, despite knowing what was to come, it does not make it any less frightening. As the first explosion goes off, your small batallion is catapulted into the air like nothing but small, insignificant ragdolls.

 

The alarm in the hangar goes off then, blaring like a deafening siren, red lights lit in every corner and wall. Groaning, laying on your back you watch in silent horror as a TIE fighter ship loosens from its derrik, causing the ground to violently shake. The engines of the craft explodes on impact, flames erupting in its wake like a furious volcano. You push yourself to a sitting position as you watch it spews out a thick cloud of smoke, toxic fumes leaking into the air. You are beyond grateful for wearing a helmet as a couple of mechanics and officers who do not wear any, fall to the ground, hands clawing at their throats, coughs wracking their forms.

 

The place has turned hot, so hot that even within the protective gear of your 'trooper armour, you can feel the heat trickling towards your skin. So far, your armour has stayed intact, but others are not as lucky. There is an officer running past you, her melting clothes on fire. Her screams of pure agony resounds in the hangar, drowning out all else for a coupler of seconds. Then she trips, falls to the ground where she writhes, wails, shrieks, every desperate scream tugging on your heartstrings. You choke up, almost move to help her... despite knowing it is futile and you won't make it in time.

 

You shudder as the screams stop, her skin starting to melt, youtful face turning into something rather grotesque. Turning away from the morbid sight, you hasten to scramble to your feet, fighting down a surge of nausea. Knowing this place will spell your death as well if you don't hurry, you force your limbs to work, to keep standing on the less than stable ground, mind reeling from watching the unknown officer die in such a gruesome way.

 

With a shaky exhale you dash towards the heap of rumpled black and white armours a few feet away from where you landed. Some of your comrades are covered in a sickening mix of blood and gore, others in various amounts of bodily fluids, but you're not interested in any of them. They're already gone. 

 

Another deafening explosion decides to go off then the same instant you begin digging through the pile bodies. You land on your knees, listening to a cacophany of human and alien cries that follows the heatwave of the explosion. You can almost taste, and  _feel,_  their desperation.

 

Digging your fingers into the armour in front of you, you use the body to get up on your feet once more. Suddenly you hear a faint groan from the pile of white and black armours. Heart lurching into your throat, you instantly utilize all the efficiency years upon years of diligent training has taught you, digging harder, faster, shoving each of your fallen comrades away with brute strength.

 

_Hold on, just hold on!_

 

Arms quivering from the extorsion, you are beyond relieved when you hear a familiar groan beneath your frantic hands. The sound gives you enough strength to dig your fingers into the final body, shoving it to the side to finally reveal your treasure.

 

_She is alive._

 

Your sister. Your comrade. Your friend. The only one whom you still know since childhood.

 

A scream suddenly breaks through the chaos then, an agonized noise cut off at the middle.

 

You shudder violently, reminding yourself that you urgently need to get a hold of yourself and get out of this place.

 

 _So much death,_ your mind reels as you stare at your gore drenched sister, ignoring the overwhelming fright of that inner voice, focusing instead on checking the vital signs of your sibling.

 

She groans once more within her 'trooper helmet as your hands skim her form, searching for any visible injuries or cracks. She looks drenched, much like you, in various amounts of bodily fluids, though thankfully none seems to be her own. You find no visible damage to the armour itself either. Gnawing your lower lip once more, you read that her vitals are good, at least decent enough to be able to run to the escape vessel without needing urgent care.

 

You release a shaky breath of relief.

 

“Ugh. My head” She hisses as you grab her arms, hoistering her to her feet.

 

“We need to run” You simply speak, your voice much more steady than you're feeling, more or less dragging your sibling towards the only ship left in decent shape to use.

 

As the two of you hobble towards the craft, ground too unsteady to actually run, you don't spot any more personnel or staff, no more 'troopers. This once lively, positively buzzing place has been reduced to nothing but a blazing inferno, hungry flames devouring piece by piece, edging ever closer towardsyour hunched forms.

 

 _We will not die here,_ you almost declare out loud, trying to reassure yourself with the knowledge of the dream, pushing even harder towards the small, unscathed TIE. A thick, heavy ball of guilt roils within your gut as you remember the young mechanic and burning officer, but you push it away, not ready to deal with it right now.

 

“Hurry!” You urge as another explosion goes off, part of the ceiling caving in with a massive heatwave following.

 

“It's so hot, I can barely breathe” Your fellow trooper rasps as the heat of the flames turns close to overwhelming.

 

There is no time left, you have need to hurry up!

 

You quicken your pace and tug her arm as another part of the ceiling caves in, ground shaking as it does.

 

“It'll get better. Hurry! _”_

 

She wobbles from the shaking floor, but years of rigorous training keeps you two standing, she keeping one hand raised in front of her helmed face as if to ward against the heat.

 

What feels like ages of avoiding burning debris and trudging through heavy air, the two of you finally reach your destination. With sore, stinging fingers on half-melted gloves, you push all the buttons you can find on the TIE until a small, narrow hatch opens. Cool air washes over the pair of you. You hurry, trying to get inside as quick as you can, not wanting the smoke and heat filling the inside of the ship.

 

Just as you take the last step before being fully inside, another explosion rocks the ground. The ramp dangerously wobbles, entire ship shaking on its derrik. The two of you lose your balance, and you can feel even through the armour how rapidly hot the metal of the ramp is becoming. Unable to stifle a gag at the smoke starting to leak into your helmet, you quickly get up and rouse your equally shaken sister.

 

“Get inside!”

 

She tries to stand, but stumbles. On instinct, you reach out and steady her shaking, seemingly uncooperative body. With a strength you don't know where it stems from, you drag her into the small, cramped craft, more or less dumping her into the co-pilot's seat.

 

Your sore hands fumble with the belts.

 

She swats at them.

 

“No time, remember?” She tiredly says and points towards the open hatch.

 

You exhale through your mouth this time, but heed the warning within her words, quickly settling into the pilot’s seat with anything but grace. The armour clinks against said seat as you place your bum on it, clearly not meant for an armoured person occupying it. As if to make it worse, the top of your helmet keeps bumping into the ceiling each time you move.

 

It is with a mix of curses that you finally manage to find the button to close the ramp, pull on the lever power up the engines, and use the right lever to prepare the craft for take off.

 

There is no time to unplug the craft from its derrik, but thankfully the chain holding the ship in place will not stand the pressure of a take-off. As the ship powers up, and proceeds to bolt out of the now completely destroyed hangar, the two of you are pressed into your seats. Steering clear of burning debris falling from the half-way collapsed exit, the two of you wade through a seemingly endless sea of orange and black. The ship beeps and warns about the heat affecting the shields, but you pay it no heed, knowing you'll be long gone before they actually overheat. As you finally exit the hangar, you are met with the darkness of night and snowy skies. 

 

Calibrating the gravity within the small, cramped ship, you steer the TIE towards your destination with a calm and surety you're not sure where it comes from.

 

Your sister almost snaps you to attention with a ragged cough.

 

Worry rises surges within your chest as you suddenly remember you have forgotten to turn on the circulation system within the ship. Fumbling a bit, you soon find the button, instantly pressing it while glancing her way. She nods at you when it finally starts, the kolmonoxide within the craft quickly disappearing into the ventilation system to be recycled into clean, breathable air.

 

_Now ... only the hard part left._

 

Although all your senses and survival instincts tells you to take another route, to get off the planet immediately, you steer the shuttle down towards the imploding ground. The large windows of the TIE gives you a clear first person view of the sheer destruction at hand. The entire ground is split open at places, snow and debris slowly falling down into the black abyss that is the planet's core, vanishing right before your eyes.

 

Straightening in the seat, inadvertently bumping your helmet into the ceiling as you do, you yank the steering wheel to the left, narrowly dodging a huge chunk of debris cast away from the mechanical planet's surface. It whirrs past the ship, and when it doesn't do as much as nudge the shields, you exhale in relief.

 

Close call.

 

Thankfully you have quick reflexes, not to mention have already flown this part a couple of times in your dreams. With another exhale, you reluctantly lower the ship further towards the imploding surface.

 

You have to focus fully then, zig-zacking between trees and debris and copious amounts of snow.

 

The closer you speed towards your destination, the more you blink at the sensation seemingly building from within. Ýou can only describe it as a tingle, a... sensation, almost likea phantom hand carressing your skin. The feeling isn't entirely unpleasant, but it is something you can't see that is _touching you_  - an entirely unfamiliar and somewhat harrowing experience. You steel your grip on the steering wheel as you try to endure the foreign sensation, trying, and losing, the fight to ignore it all together.

 

You have no idea what is going on, and since no dream ever could compare to reality, you have no choice but to sit there and allow it to happen, no matter how weirded out you are by it.

 

Suddenly, the familiar feeling of being _right_ where you are supposed to be, wells up along with the intensifying of the phantom brushes against your skin. You know this feeling, it alerts you to the fact that you are about to arrive at your premonitioned destination.

 

Yanking at the lever to your right, you effectively cut the engine's power, making the TIE almost skid to a screeching halt. Pulling on another lever and pushing the all the buttons to release the landing gear, you listen to the engines roaring as the TIE slowly descends to the ground.

 

Large snowflakes wells down over the windows, but you pay the heavy snowfall no heed. Hurredly, you proceed to unbuckle and move to the back. Balling your right hand into a fist, you punch the button to open the hatch. You are, in no way, a consentual partner in this.. whatever this is. 

 

_Your dream told you to._

 

**But why you?**

 

You have no answer to that.

 

Icy winds push at your helmet the instant the hatch opens up, frigid air leaking into the ventilation system and into the cracks of the armour, entire body erupting in goosebumps from the cold.

 

The tingles have further intensified, making you falter for the split of a second. Taking a steadying breath that fogs within the helmet, you force your legs to obey, taking a determined step forward into the freezing cold.

 

Your sister groans a bit as another gush of air enters the craft. You quietly apologise, hurrying to leave the ship and close the ramp. The first thing you notice as you fully exit is that the winds are _harsh_ , strong enough to grab a hold of your body, dragging you with them against your will. You fall backwards, landing in a huge pile of snow. Cursing as the helmet warns you about rapid drop in temperature, you get back up, bending at the middle to brave the furious gales.

 

You grunt at the effort to keep moving, crunch-crunch-crunching until you reach your end goal. Half buried in snow, the mass of black peeking out beneath it stands out like a sore thumb. 

 

Your quarry lays entirely still, motionless in the freezing snow and so you reach down, digging your feet into the ground to heave it over your shoulder. The sheer weight of the black clad person takes you by surprise. You stumble, almost dropping them, struggling to find your equilibrium of carrying such a heavy weight in a raging snowstorm. It furiously pulls on you as every single muscle in your body strains to stay upright, your lungs postively _burning_ as you force your legs to move forward. You are beyond grateful you never skipped gym or training. 

 

_Hurry!_

 

The ground decides to shake then, and you almost topple over, managing only to keep your balance from grabbing onto a protruding stump of a tree peeking out from the snow. Your heart races as you struggle to properly breathe. Despite the frigid air, you're sweating profusely beneath your armour. With a determined grunt, you let go of the stump and brave the furious planet, each step feeling like an eternity of burning lactic acid. Twice more, you wobble and almost drop your quarry, and twice you touch the person's ass to keep them steady. Has you not been in this dire situation, you might have marveled at the firm shape of it.

 

Thankfully the recipent of this sack-of-potatoes manhandling is out cold. Small blessings.

 

You can't seem to inhale enough air as you push through the last steps. Managing to stumble another two times, you punch the button to lower the ramp, almost falling backwards three times before you're actually able to haul the robed person onto the ship.

 

“Close the ramp” You gasp out the instant your legs give out, and the two if you tumble forward, unceremonously landing in a heap of black and white.

 

Blinking, you crawl out from beneath the heavy person, instantly noticing a dark red smudge on your armour. You blink, and snap your head to the left, breaths growing ragged as you watch in mute horror as a dark red pool rapidly, alarmingly fast forms beneath the robed person. Mentally bashing yourself and cursing loudly at the way you had carried them here, you hasten to check the figure for vital signs. That is the precise moment the craft decides to wobble so badly you have no time to actually analyse the charts.  Swallowing past a surge of fear, you quickly make the decision that there is no time to treat the person, you need to get off this planet immediately.

 

As on cue, your sibling turns her helmed head towards you, and even though you can't see her facial expressions beneath it, you can easily picture them along with the questions written all over her face.

 

“Not now. The ramp” You hiss out, completely out of breath.

 

Even though the winds howl outside at a deafening volume, she seems to have heard, turning back to the console and pressing a series of buttons. The ramp closes.

 

“It's getting worse” She rasps as you get up on sore feet, hobbling over to the pilot's seat. As you sit down, you notice that every nerve end is screaming at you that you've overexerted yourself to dangerous levels.

 

You ignore it, and press a small button that injects pain medication directly into the side of your throat. You instantly relax at the immediate effect, almost sighing in relief.

 

As if to mock your moment of respite, the ship starts rocking violently, and as seems to be your prerogative, your helmet hits the cockpit's ceiling with a loud sound, proceeding to bump into  the front window as well. A loud groan followed by a screech from the TIE itself, echoes within the ship, and you feel a sruge of fear that the landing gear has been damaged. The console in front of you lights up in vermillion, warning about the turbulence and noticing some damage to the landing gear.

 

You curse and hurry to press a myriad of buttons, increasing the heat of the shields and powering the engines up.

 

“Hurry!” Your sister urges, a choked sound.

 

“ _Ready for take off”_ The console speaks then, and it is not a minute too late that you pull the lever, the craft bolting from the ground with anything but grace.

 

Both you and your fellow trooper more or less bounce around like pingis balls in your seats from the severe turbulence that follows. Your helmet keeps bumping into everything, parts of your armour digging into your lactic acid-filled body.

 

You fumble a bit to fix the gravity before arranging so the craft's inside turns into a normal temperature. As another violent gush of air rocks the ship, your sister hits the side of her helmet against the side of the craft. It has you clamping down on the rising panic in your chest. Perhaps you've went wrong somewhere, perhaps you won't make it off planet after all.

 

" _Warning, warning_ " The console repeats and all you can see outside is a flurry of grey, snow and darkness.

 

As the TIE starts readying itself to bolt out of the planet's atmo and into space, you pull another lever, further powering up the engines.

 

“ _Select destination”_ The console speaks then, and you hurriedly type the coordinates of the _Finalizer,_ the only ship whose location is known to someone of your rank and occupation.

 

“ _ETA 2 days, 5 hours, 43 minutes, 46 seconds to destination. Please confirm”_

 

You take off your right glove to press your thumb against the console, validating the destination, proceeding to turn on the auto-pilot.

 

“ _Destination confirmed. Auto-pilot engaged. Engines at 70 percent. Leaving atmosphere. ”_

 

You frenetically gnaw on your lower lip and push the button to jump into hyperspace.

 

_That is when all hell breaks loose._

 


	2. Out of control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... A short but quick update :D As per usual - if you wish to BETA this, let me know <3 I am on tumblr under the same name: Elenielwen
> 
> This has all been written before my posting, meaning I am like.. 5 chapters ahead, so expect small updates like these until RL let's me write properly again x)

There is no time to breathe, no time to process what happens next as the planet below literally _**explodes.**_ Your small craft, along with its crew, is catapulted forward like a fly caught in a raging storm, debris hurtled from the dying planet, smashing into the TIE's side. The alarm goes off, red lights flooding the cramped space, sirens blaring about the heat and loss of gravititational systems, console lit up with an endless stream of error messages.

 

“We're losing velocity!” Your sister screams, yanking at the steering wheel to veer to the left, barely avoiding another chunk of debris whirring past the windows.

 

Pressing your legs against the side, calf muscles protesting from their abuse, you propel yourself forward to the pilot's chair in an effort to take back manual control of the ship.

 

“ _Warning, heat measured at 500 degrees celsius, 932 degrees fahrenheit. Heat shields at cricital level. Error, Error. ”_

 

You curse, making the quick decision to re-calibrate and re-route parts of the engine's power to help save the shields, not keen on the three of you being boiled alive.

 

As if to mock your efforts, the TIE's right wing suddenly wobbles violently, causing the craft to veer to the left, causing the ship to start spinning out of control. Your sister grunts as you are propelled into her, landing in a heap of limbs covering her smaller frame.

 

Everything keeps spinning, world rotating like the inside of a hamster wheel. As your sister fumbles beaneath your armour for the steering wheel, the ship violently wobble, causing your world to once more turn upside down. Tumbling off her, and onto to the back of the ship, you narrowly miss hurtling directly into the large heap of black's side. As the ship continues to spin out of control, both you and your quarry are flung about around one another like a pair of bouncing balls.

 

“Get it back on track!” You holler at the top of your lungs, trying your hardest to cling onto whatever you can find to combat the violent game your ship plays with the three of you as pingis balls.

 

“I'm trying!” She yells back.

 

As you landing on what seems to be the ceiling-turned-floor, the heavily clad person ends up on top of you. You have no strength to remove their weight and with the gravitational system failing, you will just have to settle for forcing air into your compressed lungs and stay there like an unwilling participant in some sort of bizarre mating dance. A stab of guilt hits you hard in the gut as you remember watching that documentary with a few of your fellow 'troopers, all of them dead and gone now. Thankfully, you have no more time to wallow in the sheer amount of  _emptiness_ that follows those thoughts, as the craft keeps spinning, your stomach clenching in protest. 

 

“ _Warning, warning_ ” The ship blares, and you stifle the urge to throw something at the too-loud console.

 

With a last, violent spin that causes your helmet to knock into the robed person's side, dark red liquid spraying all over your visor, your sister finally manage to take back control of the ship.

 

You exhale in pure relief as everything simply _stops_ , too exhausted from the whole ordeal to wipe away the dark liquid that has smeared all over your helmet's visor, painting parts of your vision vermillion.

 

“Kriff, gravity system's still malfunctioning, and shields are at critical levels despite your re-route of the engine's power” Your sister hiss, straightening in her chair, furiously tapping on the console.

 

You remain gaping like a fish on dry land on the floor, exhausted to the point where moving seems impossible. You begin to raise your hands to remove the helmet, but the motion causes your stomach to clench violently, lower body curling in on itself to ride out the waves of stabbing pain.

 

“ _Re-routing. ETA 5 days, 11 hours, 50 minutes, 35 seconds to destination. Validate”_

 

“You alright back there?” Your sister reluctantly asks as you let out a loud groan.

 

Unable to speak through the waves of agony, you settle for a weak gesture in reply.

 

“ _Critical Error 367587; Auto pilot; not responding. Gravitational system offline. Please contact an authorised mechanic for reparation. Validate”_

 

Your sister huffs, unstrap herself then move somewhat jerkily out of the co-pilot's chair, almost tumbling down in the piloting one.

 

“Go figure the debris would hit one of the wings and knock the kriffing sense out of the ship.” She snorts, “Thankfully we're alive, so could've been worse.. even if I hope you have some mighty good idea how we're supposed to navigate all the way from here to the main flagship with the auto pilot and gravitational systems malfunctioning” She glares at the console as it once more requests validation, punching down on it, “Not to mention that fellow of yours seems like he needs to get to medbay pretty urgently.”

 

You try to ignore the stab of guilt and fear that follows her words of truth. You _are_ grateful to still be in one piece, but... You know the severity of the situation. Knowing you made it past one obstacle does not automatically mean you'll make it past the rest, especially when your dream seems to be lacking...

 

Balling your hands into fists, you exhale and slwoly raise the appendages, finally feeling well enough to wipe the blood away from the visor with the back of your arm. With slow, careful movements you proceed to paddle forward until you float over to the front. Strapping yourself into the now vacant co-pilot's seat, you proceed to analyse the numbers displayed on the console, pressing on a few statistics to read a couple of charts and compare diagnostics. A tiny holo of the route to _The Finalizer_ appears and you inhale with some effort, a lump forming at the back of your throat when you notice just how _far away_ the flagship currently resides. With a pair of unsteady hands you write down a question on the console, pressing a few keys, comparing the route to _The Supremacy_ versus the one to _The Finalizer_.

 

The distance is larger than you could have imagined and _nothing_ like it had been in your dream.

 

Heart sinking, you clench your jaw, holding onto the console, digging your fingers into it, heart seemingly drumming inside your mind with a frenzied beat.

 

This isn't how things were supposed to have transpired, and your quarry doesn't have the extra time needed to make it in time to _the Finalizer._

 

A drop of perspiration begins to form on your forehead as you swallow and once more read the charts, comparing the diagnostics, perhaps you've missed something?

 

After re-reading it all three times, you stop at the fourth, admitting that you were correct the first time. Slumping in the seat you admit defeat.. You have no choice but to deviate further from your dream's events as _The Supremacy_ resides **three days** closer than _The Finalizer._

 

“Think we need to take another route, a shorter route, or our rescue won't make it. If we happen upon some Resistance or rogue or even pirate ships, the shields won't stand even a single attack, and with too little power to power the hyperspace module, we can't outrun them either” You speak with a serious tone of voice, bitterness echoing in each word.

 

Suddenly, the silence within the craft is broken by a series of coughs, followed by a loud groan.

 

  
Your body freezes, only the helmet snaps to the side, visor finding that the black mass is trying to move. You stare with something akin to horror at the scene taking place, watching as your superior struggle to raise themselves, only to fail and fall back down again. There is a puddle of dark red forming into a large bead beneath their injured body that just seems to expand in the craft. Despite their hair covering most of their face, you glimpse deathly pale skin and even more blood.

 

“Can you drive?” Your sister asks then, almost as if she can sense the way your mind has gone on overload at this new, _alien_ development ,snapping you out of whatever trance you seemed to be caught in.

 

You nod, movement more automatic than not.

 

“Never flown a damaged craft before, CN-8587. You will do it, destination _The_ _Supremacy._ Confirm.” you reflexively reply, eyes still on the struggling form of your  _too pale_ superior.

 

You distantly listen to your sister swallowing within her helmet.

 

"Confirmed"

 

A small voice within tells you to hasten, that time's running out, to get back there, to urgently treat your rescue.

 

Your mind slowly turns blank, a lifetime of servitude turning every limb into nothing more than a _stormtrooper_. With mechanic, distant, yet efficient movements, you unbuckle, back ramrod straight as you fully stand, one hand resting on the seat to not float away.

 

_What had you done wrong?_

 

You take one floating step forward.

 

In your dreams you had flewn the craft to a whole other ship, your sister had rested all the while the _person_ at the back of the ship remained safely unconcious until you reached the _Finalizer's_ hangar.

 

You take another.

 

_Where had things deviated?_

 


End file.
